Home Is Where...

"Home is where the heart is..."  Haven't we all heard that one?  I'd say that's probably true, in a cliche'd sort of way.  I do know that when I'm away from my girls, I miss them terrible, no matter where they are at the time.  So yeah, home is where the heart is...

Now, having said that, here's what's really on my mind this morning.  I'm a United Methodist pastor.  Have been for nearly 13 years now.  I'm also an Elder in full connection...which means I'm a pastor who has vowed to itinerate...which also means that I'm appointed to a community one year at a time.  We never know from June to June where we'll be, and honestly, I don't mind.

It does, however, make finding a sense of "home" difficult at times.  As long as I'm with my girls, we can be at home in a tent, but there's something about getting ready to leave some place and being able to say to my family, "Let's go home."  It's a constant search, but this week, I think I found it.

We own a home of our own, but also have a parsonage in the community I serve.  Summer before last, I put out a garden at our house and loved it.  We would sneak away for a couple days at a time so I could work the garden, but the reality is, the food I raised there cost me probably three times what it would have to buy in a grocery.  It didn't make economical sense, so I didn't plant a garden last year...and I missed it something fierce.

This year, after having moved to a new community and church, I talked to my committee about putting a garden at the parsonage.  They told me to go ahead, and that it was no problem at all, so I began to plan.  Where was I going to put it?  What would I plant?  Would I even have time?  Then this Monday, I was under orders from my wife to do something I wanted to do...just for me.  The time for planning was over, so I got my garden tiller out, pulled a couple strings, and started breaking ground. 

The smell was unbelievable.  That fresh, earthy scent took me right back to when I was a 6 year old kid, riding the tractor with my Granddaddy while he disked his fields.  After a few hours on the tiller (and 600 mg of ibuprofen), I was ready to start sowing seeds.   I stopped at the local farm store (trying to buy more local anyhow), bought my seed and a few plants, then went to work.  I brought compost over from our house and worked it into the soil, pulled more strings (I'm OCD, so the rows had to be perfectly spaced and perfectly straight) and started planting...first garlic, cabbage, lettuce, and onions.  Then an herb garden, peppers, tomatoes, squash, and peas. 

As I planted our garden, I realized that I was at home.  We may not own the house that we sleep in most nights, but now it is our home.  I can look through the dining room windows and see our garden, and it might not make sense to anybody else, but to me that was the last piece of the puzzle.  Our furniture has been here for almost a year.  The church has bent over backwards to do all they can to make us feel at home, but something was missing. 

I don't know, maybe I just need a to see a counselor or something...maybe it's gardening and not  fishing or golf that relaxes me...but as I sat on the patio this morning, with a cup of coffee, looking at our garden, and watching the birds come to the feeder, I felt at home...finally.  So, home is where the heart is...but for me, home is also where the garden is...

Whether it's a spot cut up in the back yard, or plastic totes filled with potting soil, I think this country boy, from here on out, is going to have something growing no matter where we are.



      

Screen Door Slamming...

I'm sitting at a cabin at the Kenlake State Resort Park, during a break while at our annual meeting of the fellowship of the orders of elders, deacons, and local pastors. This is our spring Spiritual Life Retreat for 2012. There is a little breeze blowing through the trees, filtered sunlight in the sky, and a sound that I have been inadvertantly blocking out for about the last 20 minutes.

I didn't even realize I was doing it.

This afternoon has been great, really. I got to get in a little trail time with some colleagues, who are also great friends. We hiked probably 3 miles or so. This morning's session was a good one. Lunch provided some great conversation with old friends, and now it's break time.

As I sit here on the screened-in porch at my cabin, I'm watching the waves dance on the Ledbetter Creek Bay of Kentucky Lake...thinking. I do that sometimes. Every now and then, not often mind you, but every now and then I'm able to stop for a few minutes, clear my mind, and just let the thoughts flow. It's really a much under appreciated moment, and honestly, goes completely unnoticed much of the time...but today I caught it.

As I'm listening to the birds and the waves, there is another sound screaming for my attention...do I dare let it in? To do so would be to shatter the beauty of the natural sounds I have been soaking in for the last few minutes...but it won't go away.

At this point I have a choice...I can begin to really pay attention to it, or I can ignore it and continue listening to the sounds of the winds, birds, and waves. Should I choose to let it in, it will overtake all that is beautiful around me. Yet if I ignore it, will it every really go away?

I choose to ignore it. "What is the sound?" you may ask...it is the sound of the screen door slamming. It's one of those noises that absolutely annoys the hell out of me. A shot of WD-40 might fix it, or I could get up and latch the screen door...or I can take this as the teaching moment it has become...sometimes there are some noises, or voices, in life that just need to be ignored...for a season.

It doesn't mean that they go away, or that at some point something doesn't need to be done to remedy the situation, but for the moment, I'm just going to be....and that's something I don't do nearly enough of.

So, screen door, slam in the breeze if you want. Make all of the noise you want to make. I choose, for this moment, to embrace the beautiful...to gaze out over the waves of Ledbetter Creek and watch the branches swaying in the breeze. I'm going to pay more attention to the sound of the gulls flying overhead, and watch the leaves sprout, and then in a bit...after my spirit has rested...I will get up and take care of you.

Why? Because the God that loves me, and that I love, calls to me each day, and this day I choose to reply..."Take me into the beautiful."

Peace,
Jamie

Spring Clean...

Yesterday was a day I look forward to every year, March 1. Oh I know that winter isn't exactly over yet, but it's getting close. Now we're through the (supposed to be) bitter cold of December and January, the wet snow of February, and moving on into the last few days of winter/first few days of spring.

The chorus frogs and spring peepers have been chirping for a few weeks, the irises are coming back out, and Narcissus blooms are everywhere. My absolute favorite time of the year, and yesterday I got to do one of my absolute favorite outside activities...it may not be your favorite, but it's one of mine.

I got the lawnmower out yesterday. I know, I know. "It's too early for that...You're neighbors aren't going to like that..." Well I do. Not only did I get the lawnmower out, but the weedeater too. And surprise of surprises, they both started.

Some folks get into spring cleaning their house, I spring clean my yard...have ever since I've had my own place. For me it's almost a spiritual thing. I mean, sure, my yard looks awesome now...all of the sticks have been picked up and piled, just waiting for a quick chance for a hot dog roast...the leaves have all been raked and piled...the grass is cut...shrubbery has been trimmed. But more importantly, and for me the spiritual part...all of the old dead stuff is gone, clearing a path for new growth.

Call me crazy, but I can even see theology in yard work. I'm pretty sure that most of the new plants would have found a way through the tangle of limbs and leaves that scattered the yard had I not done anything. I also know that most of us will find new beginnings amidst that mass of tangles in our lives, but why go through all of the unnecessary struggle?

If a pile of dead leaves and rotting sticks is keeping your irises from poking through the ground, get out your rake and clean it up. If there is something in your life that is preventing the growth of the person you were created to be, get rid of it.

Yeah, my yard looks pretty good now, but my soul feels better to.

Happy cleaning.

Peace,
Jamie

Best of All...

You've seen them, I'm sure...lists of famous last words. Around here, the most common last words you may hear are, "Hey y'all! Watch this!" In the words of Jeff Foxworthy, if you hear someone say those words, especially in the South, pay attention. It may be the last thing you hear them say.

All joking aside, we pay attention to last words of those around us. When my grandfather passed away, the last conversation he and I had was about taking care of the farm. He took me around the farm and we spent the afternoon going over his final instructions for me. We both knew his time was getting close, but neither really knew how close. Then the last thing he told me was, "Son, you're going to have to take of this place for your grandma."

And then there are these: some "alleged" last words:

"Pardon me, sir. I did not do it on purpose." - Queen Marie Antoinette after she stepped on the toe of her executioner.

"I should have never switched from scotch to martinis." - Humphrey Bogart

"Dammit! Don't you dare ask God to help me." - Joan Crawford to her housekeeper

"Hey fellas! How about this for a headline for tomorrow's paper? 'French fries'!" - James French, convicted

murderer, to the members of the press there to witness his execution.

"Now, now, my good man. This is no time for making enemies." - Voltaire, when asked by a priest to renounce Satan.

Whether or not those are historical, or even remotely accurate, I have no clue, but they do make for good conversation.

There's another deathbed quote that I think we should be at least as familiar with as those above, but you won't see this one in many "Top 10 Greatest Last Words" lists..."And best of all, God is with us." - John Wesley, March 2, 1791.

I have talked to a lot of folks lately who just seem lonely. It's a bad cliche' but they are lonely even in a crowded room...friends of mine, colleagues, folks in the church, and especially now that we have begun Celebrate Recovery. What seems to be missing in so many lives, is genuine, compassionate, honest, and consistent companionship. A lot of folks feel like they are struggling against the current and no one is there with them to offer any type of support or help. In fact, it's almost epidemic.

Now, I know that with the economy like it is, job security being non-existent, and any number of other contributing factors, life is tough all around. Which makes these last words even more important.

I'd like to share a quick story, leaving out names intentionally. At a meeting I was at recently, a friend of mine was talking about a friend of his that had been coming to him for help. This guy had made a bunch of mistakes, and had made them repeatedly. Late one night my friend's phone rang and it was this friend of his, sobbing. He was trying to find healing from a circumstance in his life (I'm intentionally being vague) and said to my friend, "You can't leave! You're all I have!" When those words sunk in, my friend told him, "Then you don't have very much," and hung up the phone.

Now that sounds harsh, I know. Was it the best way to deal with this person? Maybe not, but the point my friend was trying to make was that if all his buddy had was their friendship, then he didn't have much. Why? Because he had forgotten, or had never heard, Wesley's last words..."Best of all, God is with us."

That's something I try to remember every day, letting them soak into my soul. Why? Because sometimes the path that I have chosen is a lonely one. Aside from family and a circle of friends, I have difficulty letting folks in. It's my own doing, I know. But as long as I can remember these words, and as long as I can hear them for the truth they are, I know that I am never alone. Today I was reminded of that through conversations with some of my friends.

Best of all, God is with us.

Peace,

Jamie

A Hot Mess...

It's Friday morning. I've been running hard all week. My girls are out of school today. We're chilling. Well, actually, three of us are chilling. One has yet to discover, this day, that the world is even turning...but I digress.

As I sit at the kitchen table typing, coffee steaming beside the laptop, I have a perfect view of the home made cinnamon rolls I just put in the oven. I've been wanting to make some forever but hadn't found a recipe I really liked, or the time to make them anyhow. Today was the day.

Unfortunately, I have no idea how they're going to turn out. I followed the directions best I could (Baking soda is optional, right?). Rolled them out, patted them down, rolled them up, sliced and placed them in the baking dish. Now...I hope they're edible. The reality is they will probably rock, (cause I'm cool like that), but there is always the possibility they will just be a hot mess.

I don't know why, but as I sat down to write, after making a brand new recipe for the first time, and hoping they turn out ok, Jeremiah 1:4 kept coming to mind. "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations."

I wonder if God ever looks at me and thinks, "What a hot mess that one turned out to be." I mean, I am sure that I'm following the plan God had laid out for my life...now...but that wasn't always the case.

I doubt that most of my 20's were spent following God's plan for me from before I was born. I'm pretty sure there were times during high school that I absolutely wasn't following God's plan for me from my mother's womb. College? Let's don't even go there. I mean, I think I'm doing ok now, but there had to be times when God just shook his head.

Oh, I know Jeremiah 1 really doesn't have much to do with cinnamon rolls, but I sure do hope they turn out like I wanted them to. Hmm, maybe it does. Just something to chew on this morning (pun absolutely intended).

Oh, gotta go. Cinnamon rolls are done.

Peace,
Jamie

Rhythm of the Life...

In my years in ministry, short though they be, I have noticed a trend among my colleagues and many church folk while engaged in water cooler talk. The conversation usually starts innocently enough:
"How are things going at church?"
"Oh, they're going great. We had nearly 100 in worship Sunday, and the offering was huge! What about you?"
"Well, not so good, actually. We only had 48 in worship and we're struggling to pay the bills."

Now, of course that's not the only conversations my colleagues and I, or the folks under our spiritual care, have when it comes to discussions on the church. However, what I have found as lacking, (and I'm not the only one, nor is this by any means a new idea,) is this: Rarely does the conversation shift to a Mark 6 kind of discussion. Perhaps it's because we know, deep down in our cores, that we are not living Mark 6 lives. We have lost, often times, the Rhythm of the Life and the results can be devastating.

Some may argue this, but I am pretty well convinced that Jesus was no dummy, and the more I read William Barclay, the more I'm becoming convinced that he, also, was no dummy. Today's devotional hit me hard.

"There are two dangers in life...First there is the danger of a too constant activity...Second there is the danger of too much withdrawal." ("The Pathos of the Crowd, William Barclay) Basically, this says that we cannot work without rest and we cannot rest without work. Sounds simple enough. The difficulty is in finding the balance.

The backdrop for today's devotional, and this blog, was Christ's invitation to the disciples after a long and tiring day of ministry. You might say, "But isn't giving yourself to the work of ministry a good thing?" Absolutely, as long as that giving of oneself is balanced with enough time in the quiet places, resting, so that the work of ministry can be Spirit led and result in God's reign being brought forth on earth.

I'm going to step out on a limb and say that I am blessed among my colleagues in that I serve a church, who is served by a committee, who recognizes the importance of finding this balance, and maintaining this rhythm of work and rest. After I report to my committee all of my comings and goings since the last time we met, and all of the work that is being done, without fail they will ask me, "And are you taking care of yourself? When are you resting?"

So colleagues, never forget that we are not so important that we can't afford to take time apart to spend with Christ in the quiet places. It's a constant struggle for me, but I am still trying to figure out how to work smarter and not just longer.

Church folks, your pastor needs time away if you expect any kind of growth in the ministry of the church. They cannot help care for your soul if they are not taking time to care for their own, it's as simple as that. Make sure that she or he is given the time...and the permission...to come into the presence of the Almighty and rediscover, or probably closer to the truth, discover for the first time the Rhythm of the Life.

"Come away with my, by yourselves, to a quiet place and get some rest."

Peace,
Jamie

Holy Lent, Batman!

Let it be known in all parts that I, James Lee, will not be practicing self-denial by giving anything up for Lent this year.

There, I said it. I'm not...and I mean it.

I am, in fact, not giving anything up for Lent this year. "Why?" you may ask. Or, actually a more common response would be, "So what." But the "Why," if you were to inquire, is because of the fact that on January 12 of this year, I gave up being a control freak, and ever since, life has been pure hell. That's right, I stood up at our first Celebrate Recovery meeting, walked down front, took that blue chip, said these words, "My name is Jamie and I'm a control freak and perfectionist, and I have to learn to let some things go," and it's been downhill since. Would you like a list of the things that have gone wrong since then and that have begun to teach me, under no uncertain terms, that I never was really in control to begin with?

So, I think I'm done with the self denial stuff for a while. Oh, I'll keep giving up being a control freak, or trying to, but enough is enough. I will, however, continue to encourage my folks to practice some sort of self denial during the holy season of Lent.

Did I just hear someone shout ugly things at me? Things like, "Hypocrite!"... or ... "Take the log out of your own eye before you yell at your neighbor about the splinter in his!" ... or ... "What's good for the goose is good for the gander!" (Honestly, I never really liked that one anyhow)

Ok, let me explain something. I am not observing Lent this year through intentional self denial. I am, however, still maintaining a holy Lent, and I will be doing so by engaging in an activity in which I have not engaged since the days of my childhood. Those were days spent within the blonde brick walls at Lynnville UMC, when this time each year, little plastic banks would suddenly, and mind you, mysteriously appear on all of the Sunday school tables, with little calendars, listing little scriptures, and stuff about shoes or snacks, and books or mail, or any number of other things that could have a 2 or 3 cent price tag associated with them.

This year, instead of giving up sweets, or fast food, or coffee, or exercise, or whatever...I am going to TRY to observe a holy Lent by helping to ease the suffering of children of the Almighty King all around the world, one nickel at a time. Won't you join me?

If you would like information on how you, too, can participate in the Lenten World Hunger Offering, please let me know.

Peace,
Jamie

Copy and paste this link into your browser for a 4 minute video on world hunger... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IX4AB6uuIK8